Drive
by VegaIsTheBrightestStarInLyra
Summary: She will die. She knows that. So now, from the 'comfort' of her cell Yassen's daughter relives the events that made her one of the world's most wanted. And now, the word's next criminal to be excecuted. But she will not admit defeat. She has the power.
1. Chapter 1

"The suspect is accused of motor theft. How do you plead?" The judge asked, peering over his glasses, patronisingly.

"Guilty." she replied, gritting her teeth, her mouth returning to the hard line it had been before.

"The suspect is accused of drug trafficing. How do you plead?"

"Guilty."

"The suspect is accused of assisting known criminals. How do you plead?" The judge's face was getting smugger and smugger. She ought to slap him.

"Guilty". Out of the corner her eye she could see him. Her father, looking at her, a look in his eyes she had never seen before.

"The suspect is accused of assisting in human trafficing. How do you plead?"

"Guilty." She was becoming more and more of an android whenever she spoke.

The judge was paractically dancing with joy when he got to the end of his list. Leaning forwards, so he could see the look on her face better, he said; "The suspect is accused of quadruple murder... How do you plead?"

The whole courtroom turned to look at her. Her answer to this question would determine her fate. She looked up slowly, fighting back the tears of despair she so desperatly wanted to shed. She made sure that her sharp, icy blue eyes fixed with his milky, grey ones. She tossed her platinum hair over one shoulder and said, as haughtily as her emotions would allow; "Is that all? I could have sworn there were more."

The judge leant back swiftly, breathing in deeply as he went. He picked up his papers and shuffled them as he tried to regain posure and wait for the furious whispering to subside.

She smirked at him, making sure that she kept on staring. She wouldn't let them know she was scared. She would rather die than give them power over her.

The judge cleared his throat nervously. "I take it... that... that was you pleading guilty?" He asked, trying to seem intimidating and composed.

"Of a sort." She mused, sarcastically. "Guilty to murder. But as I said before. Not necessarily quadruple." She said, staring into his eyes, her smirk still in place.

"Well then. I hereby sentance you, Anastasia Maria Viktoria Gregorovicha, to capital punishment." The judge said as he gathered his papers and left the room.

Anastasia allowed her head to drop down so that she was staring at her lap. She didn't even react when two pairs of rough hands grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her out of her chair, forcing her arms - with her hands cuffed behind her back - into a full nelson. She was concerntrating far too hard on keeping her mask firmly in place to be bothered by the pain.

OoO

Yassen wanted to look away when she passed, but he didn't for her sake. She needed to know that he would stay with her. He sorted his face into an emotionless mask - one to rival his daughter's - and waited for her to pass. What he wasn't counting on was eye contact. As his Nastia was dragged passed him she looked up through the curtains of hair that had fallen into her face by the rough handling. Their eyes met and Yassen saw all the pain and the fear and the despair that her face would not allow. He felt his mask crumble. But the damage was done. She had already looked away.

Instead of seeing the bravely stoic father that Yassen had hoped she would, she had seen the cold, uncaring father she was convinced he was. He tried to reach for her , his fingers almost grabbing her elbow before his hand was smacked away from her. He looked up into the eyes of one of the many guards that would be by her cell the next few nights. He looked into the eyes of one of the many men who might be the one to put the hood over Nastia's head and lead her to her death.

Like his daughter before him, he stared into the man's eyes, refusing to break the contact. Refusing to admit defeat. He would not let them have power over him. Power over _them_.

Once the contact was broken he stood up quickley and swep out of the room, closing his eyes as his emersed himself in the hustle and bustle of midday Moscow. He closed his eyes and let the tears fall.

His daughter was going to be dead by the end of the month. And he could have stopped it.

_A.N. Hey! Just thought I'd point out that Alex Rider does not belong to me as I am infact a girl so it is highly unlikely that I am called Anthony. So this is my newest story. Fingers crossed to enjoyed it! Please leave your thoughts in a review. I would appriciate it if the flaming was kept to a bare minimum. Thank you! -Vega_


	2. Chapter 2

_A.N. I'd like to thank everybody who read chapter 1! Also I'd like poeple to review and tell me what you think I need to improve on and stuff!_

_Disclaimer: As I said before. I do not own Alex Rider! _

**3 years ago: January 5th, 2008: Almost midnight: Moscow, Russia**

Christmas Eve. Looking around, Anastasia marvelled at the lights strung up on the huge tree in the city centre, the models of Father Frost in the shop windows and wait for it... there the church bells signaling the first few seconds of Christmas. Anastasia smiled bitterly when she heard the sound of singing coming from the church a few minutes walk from Moscow Zoo, where she was now. This was the only taste of Christmas she got every year.

Anastasia knew she looked weird, indimidating even, when she was stood leaning agaist one of the fake rock walls a few minutes past midnight on Christmas Day. But she didn't care. She was too annoyed to care. Natalia was over two hours late. She was meant to finish work at a bar near Red Square at half past nine so that she could get up to the Zoo where Anastasia would be meeting her after being at her friend, Tanya's house for dinner.

Anastasia was foolish to think that her mother would be ontime for anything. She had probably met another man. Anastasia shivered but it had nothing to do with the bitter cold. Pulling her bag more securley over her shoulder, Anastasia began her long walk back to their tiny appartment a few miles away, trying to ignore the absence of pain in her feet anymore. That worried her, if you still felt pain then you knew you were in the danger zone but you still had time to save yourself, but as soon as the pain went you knew you were in trouble.

The pain had also gone from her fingers and was rapidly spreading through her arms and legs. If she wasn't careful they'd have to have the chop. Frost bite was a dangerous thing. Natalia barely made any money at her job, and the little she did she put towards looking after Anastasia just enough so that nobody would suspect neglect. The rest she put towards bying herself new things so that she might look 'good enough to bag a rich and handsome man'.

Anastasia bit back a groan when she saw the big fat snowflakes begin to hurtle down. There was already three feet on the ground and this had the makings of a blizzard. She picked up her pace, almost jogging to try and get back. But she was so tired! All she wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep. As she had thought the snow fall soon became too rapid for her to see more than a foot infront of her and looking at the big advert screen in the distance she saw that the temperature was -25 degrees celcius. That wasn't too bad, she'd been in -35 before! But as her eyes travelled alond the row af stats she saw that the wind chill took it to -46. Brilliant.

She was so cold. Her puffa jacket barely providing any warmth now. Anastasia's legs went to lead and she found it hard to walk. If she didn't get hom soon she would just have to sit down and wait for somebody to find her. Whether it be dead or alive. There was a comfort in knowing that her mother - as dim as she was - would probably make connection that it was her fault. But Anastasia knew she shouldn't be thinking like that. She wouldn't let her useless mother have power over her. Anastasia was incharge of her own life!

She knew it was stupid but she was desperate. As discretely as she could manage, she walked over to a car parked in the carpark to Pericrestok - a popular supermarket a few yards away from the metro station (she had considered this but the last train had gone half an hour ago). It was a simple car, a Lada - rather popular with the less well off in Moscow. She cringed when she saw the dice hanging off the rear view mirror. But now the tricky bit.

How was it you got into cars? Anastasia bit her lip, kicking herself for her stupidity. She may aswell try it like a normal house door - she had often had to let herself in to her own house. Taking out the massive paper clip she had stolen from Tanya, in a rare bout of kleptomania, a few hours ago. The unfolded it and carefully slotted it into the key whole and jiggled it around, not really suspecting anything to happen. But to her surprise she heard a click saw the little bits sticking up next to the window jump up, signalling it to be open.

Now the next hard bit. Making it start... She racked her brains for was Alexei had told her in their English lesson a few weeks ago. Alexei was in idiot, if the truth were to be told, but God did he know his cars! Something about wires... She stepped into the car - cringing when she thought about how this might belong to a pimp or somebody else with an equally disgusting job - and looked under the steering wheel for the clips that would hold the panel on.

Once it was off she set about finding the clip or wiring harness connector so that she could gain access to the wires behind the ignition. Once this had been done she looked for the two wires that were the same. Alexei had said they were usually red... Aha! There they were! Remembering the hand actions that Alexei had used the stripped some of the insulation off them and rapped them together tightly - Alexei had said that tape was reccomended but seeing as she hadn't intended to commit grand theft auto she hadn't thought to bring some with her.

She then looked for the brown wire - which she assumed was the ignition wire, all the while getting ready to rev the engine so she didn't stall, once she'd stripped about half an inch of the insulation off she set about wrapping it around the other two wires. Or was it touch? After a moment's contemplation she decided to just do both, touching them together to that it was quicker. To Anastasia's delight the engine sprang to life and she revved as well as she could to keep it going.

after clapping her hands and squealing as quietly as she could, Anastasia placed the wires so that they wouldn't touch any of the metal in the car, and put the panel back on, all the while making a mental note to give Alexei a massive snog the next time she saw him and thanking God that she had one of those faces that people though were mean and a constant expression of hatred that meant she had to sit at the front with people like Alexei in the first place.

She knew she couldn't really drive, but Natalia - when she was in a rare good mood - had talked her through the gears and pedals and stuff, so she didn't really think it would be that hard. Slamming the car door shut and taking a deep breath, Anastasia put the car into reverse and slowly backed out.

It was a miricale nobody died that night, thank God it was night time and Christmas day. Apparently driving was a little harder than it looked, especialy when you have no idea where your windscreen wipers are and it's throwing it down with snow! She had made sure to keep her hood up and gloves on so that she wouldn't leave any DNA behind when she would dump it a few minute's walk from her home.

Despite the paralysing fear she felt through most of her twenty minute drive that night, she couldn't help feel that glimmer of joy and adreneline that she would get hooked on so quickly.

After messily parking the car on the side of the road - knowing full well it was a double yellow line. She began the final leg of her journey back home, geting ready to shout at Natalia for being such a crap mother and forgetting all about her. But all thoughts of the many insults she was racking up in her mind ready to slip into a witty remark left her mind when she saw the police cars out side her house. Her heart sped up and her breathing became laboured.

She forced herself to calm down. They couldn't have known it was her who stole it, didn't they usually do some sort of dramatic chase through the streets? There was no saying that the police were even here for her! Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Anastasia held her head up and walked to her building. She was not intercepted, so she allowed herslef to breath a sigh of relief. Until she felt a hand fall on her shoulder.

She turned around, all the while trying to re start her heart. "Are you Anastasia Gregorovitcha?" The policeman asked, looking down at her pityingly.

Anastasia nodded robotically.

"I have some bad news for you. Maybe we should go up and sit down?" He asked, gesturing up the stairs.

_A.N. I know that this chapter had a lot about hot wiring the car but I'm one of those people who hates it when people put 'she walked over and hot wired the car' without saying how she knew, or what they even did! I used to live in Moscow so I know the area that Anastasia was in really well - I lived between Red Square, the Polish Embassey and Moscow Zoo. Pericrestok is a popular shop there and it is also close to a metro station. Just so I don't get anybody telling me that I got Christmas' date wrone, the Russians follow a differant calender to people in Europe and America and places that Europe have colonised! They also don't have father Christmas, they have Dedya Maroz (translated to Father Frost)!_

_Anyway! I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a review with your opinions and stuff, I always like getting them! _

_-Vega_


	3. Chapter 3

_A.N. I hope you're all enjoying the story so far and that I'm not boring you! _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider, no matter how hard I wish I did. _

**3 years ago: January 6th, 2008: Almost one in the morining: Moscow, Russia**

Natalia was dead. That's what the policemen had wanted to tell her. That her mother was dead. Anastasia may not have respected or like her mother in any way shape or form but she still loved her. And her death, though it didn't upset her, it did shake her. It was strange to think that the women she had waved goodbye to not twenty four hours ago was now lying in a mourge.

They said she was shot. They didn't know why, apparently she had just stepped out of the bar when it happened. She had been taken to hospital but had died in surgery, two hours later. They - the police - had been waiting for her for about fourty minutes when they had finally managed to pull up a file on one Natalia Fardanesha. And now Anastasia was left with no family, no home, no choice but to go with them to a horrid orphanage where she would no doubt be abused by the other 'inmates'.

But she did have another choice, a stupid and reckless choice. To run. Anastasia knew she could do it. She would make her way into the city centre and get another car, she would get a job somewhere and live on the streets until she had earned enough to get an appartment and live by herself. It was stupid, so very stupid. But she was in charge of her own life, she would not let them have power over her.

She stood. "I need the toilet." She announced. The policemen looked around at her - they were searching the appartment to see if there was any reason Natalia would be shot. But Anastasia didn't really care. It was probably some yob she had angered in the pub that had been completely sloshed and shot her, not quite realising what he was doing.

They let her go. They probably thought she wanted to be alone when she cried. Yeah, right. She quietly walked into their hallway and grabbed her winter clothes, then she walked into her room and grabbed her backpack, putting in some clothes and all of her savings, it was only about 5000 roubles, but that was still enough to last her a week or so, until she found a job. She also had her mother's bank account. She would go and withdraw all the money from it (Anastasia did a lot of the shopping and so knew the PIN number) and move it all into her bank.

She walked into their pokey bathroom and locked the door. She crossed over to the window and opened it as wide as it would go. Luckily they lived on the third floor*and the window over looked the back of the appartment block. Making sure she was extra careful not to slip on the icy windowcill and keep as quiet as possible, she hitched one of her legs over the windowcill, keeping firm hold on the window above her.

Carefully she swung her left leg over too, she slowly lowered herself onto the top of the people below's window, trying to keep the inevitable bang as quiet as possible. As quietly as she could she walked over to the join of the set out window and the building. Anastasia carefully turned so that she was facing the building and took off her gloves. She grabbed hold of the drain pipe and gently lowered herself gown using the pipe and the side of the window as support.

Once she had reached as far as she could go with that method Anastasia prepared herself to drop. She was glad that her mother had somehow managed to fork out for all the years of gymnastics she had. Anastasia positioned herself so that when she jumped she would be able to spin around so that she could land facing forwards and to take all of the shock throughout her legs and back. But she had to be careful. The snow had stopped and was quickly freezing over, if she landed wrong she could slip and break her leg.

Taking a deep, calming breath, she kicked off from the building. When she landed the didn't land in the preffered standing position like she had been taught, but in a crouch, more akin to what one might be taught whilst free running or something of the like. But still, she was down, and, as far as she could tell, completely unharmed.

She needed to set off now, she had been gone for too long and the officers would beging to suspect something. She needed to be gone by that point. So, careful not to slip on the snow she ran over to the fence surrounding the set of blocks and moved herself over it. She ran for a few yards more but had to stop when she nearly slipped on the slush. After regaining her balance she ran again.

But she was thinking. Slush? All the slush in the city should have been covered by the snow. That meant that a car and people had been there since the snow had stopped. And the fact it hadn't frozen at all meant that it had been very recent. And that meant that someboy had seen her leave...

_*as in how the Russians would think of the third floor, like the ground floor is the first etc._

_Did you enjoy it? Also, I find her name is nicer when you pronounce it the Russian way of 'Anastazeeyah' rather the wester way! _

_Leave a review and tell me! ;D_


	4. Chapter 4

_A.N. I know I haven't made it clear so there's no way you would have known but I was imagining that Alex came into it in 2011, just before her trial. Also I'm sorry this chapter was late, but I was having a bit of trouble with integrating my character and getting the necessary info into it. Thank you, if you bothered to read this! _

**3 years ago: January 10th, 2008: Ten in the Morning: Moscow, Russia.**

Anastasia shifted again. She could feel him staring at her. A boy, only slightly older than her - she guessed at sixteen - had been sat on the bench that ran around the fountain, diagonal to her bench, for the past ten minutes. Anastasia thought it odd because the boy did not even attempt to hide the fact he was staring. He just sat there, and eveytime she tried to sneak a glance at him he'd smirk and wink at her. Anastasia was sure that another girl would kill to be in her position - being watched and winked at by an undeniably good looking boy - but she just found it annoying and slightly sickening. No doubt the effect he had intended.

She looked out of the corner of her eye, making sure her body didn't move at all, and sure enough, he winked and smiled. He couldn't have known she was looking and so he must have just been doing it every so often in the hope she was looking. As if reading her thoughts he began to laugh. Growing tired of this odd boy's disturbing game, Anastasia stood up and walked away from that psycopath.

She had walked for a few minutes before she stopped dead in the street. He was following her! She whirled around and almost clipped her nose on his cheast, he was standing so close. "Can I help you?" She snapped, crossing her arms and trying to look intimidating, parying for somebody to walk around the corner so they could see him attack her (she had no proof he would, but it was better to be safe than sorry).

The boy smirked and stuffed his - foolishly - ungloved hands into his coat pockets. He took at deep, and somehow amused, breath. "I think so. And I think I can help you too." He said, almost as if he was unsure of what he was saying.

Anastasia raised her eyebrow. Sick bastard.

The boy raised his hands in surrender, "Just hear me out!" He cried, and after no interruptions he said, "Look, you need some money and we have a long term job that needs doing. You'll need some training but it looks like you have a natural talent." He told her.

We? Either way, Anasatsia wasn't intrested in a pimp's job pitch, the answer was no. She made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, rolled her eyes, curled her lip and walked off. She had only gone a few yards when the boy spoke again. "I met your dad the other day!" He called out to her.

Anastasia walked on again but called behind her, "You have no idea who I am, nor who my father is, so that will not work!"

"Oh really? Anastasia Maria Viktoria Gregorovitcha, right? Your dad gave us a copy of your birth certificate. Yassen was it?" He had her, not that she'd let him know that.

"What? I'm afraid you have mistaken me for somebody else! My name is Daria, Daria Kuznetsova." She replied, plucking a classmate's name out of her head, using her best puzzled expression. She shot him one more bewildered and confused look before walking on.

"You'll change your mind soon! And when you do I'll be here. Take as long as you need, I'm in no rush!" She heard him shout.

Anastasia had no doubt that she would eventually need the help he was offering, but she doubted if she would take it. She had a good idea who that boy was talking about when he had said 'we' and Anastasia could last wihout their help. Not very well, but she could.

Unsurprisingly the police hadn't really put much effort into finding her. They had had people on patrol for a day or so but they soon lost interest. Nobody really cared about an orphan, with nowhere to go or no one looking out for her. They also still hadn't worked out that it was she who had stolen the car.

After having fled her apartment Anastasia had taken the long route of getting back to the car she had stolen earlier, and driven it into the very centre of Moscow. She had parked it and then slept in it, making sure her hood was firmly up, so as not to leave any DNA on the seats. The morining after she had driven to the bar that Natalia had worked at to pick up her mother's withstanding wages - that the manager had given to her with surisingly little prompting. Infact, the man's behavior had been a little odd, he had seemed to know exactly who Anastasia was and what she wanted from him, without introduction -. It hadn't been much but Anastasia would take anything she could get at that moment, and even that amount would get her a few precious meals.

For the past four days Anastasia had been managing to lie low and stay out of trouble, until That Boy had shown up and announced her name to the entire world! And how did he even know who she was? As far as she knew her father hadn't had any dealings with the Mafia - but then again, Anastasia had only met the man twice, and that was a long time ago, who knew what he had been up to since she was five? And how did That Boy get mixed up with them. Perhaps he was part of their human trafficing? No, he seemed too confident for that, and his clothes were too high a quality for him to be a prostitute.

Not that it mattered anyway, no matter how poor and desperate she got she wouldn't go to them. That was something good that Natalia had managed to teach her. Anastasia's mother had often been tempted to go to the Mafia for help - apparently she had known somebody in it who would be able to put a word in for her (perhaps Yassen had been involved with them) - but had quickly changed her mind, deciding she would rather she and Anastasia be poor than indebted to them. God knows what they would have Natalia do if she couldn't give them the cash back, they might have even come for Anastasia.

But after a few phone calls they always had the money they needed. When she was younger Anastasia had often asked why they did not always get money off this person Natalia called when things got particularily bad, and Natalia had said that when she got older she would figure it out for herself. When Natalia had called the person a few months ago it struck Anastasia that perhaps this person was even more dangerous than the Mafia.

**3 years ago: February 23rd, 2008: Half Nine in the Morning: Moscow, Russia**

The money had run out a week and a half ago. Anastasia kept her head down as she walked the familiar streets, only looking up when she reached the fountain. There he was, That Boy, sat on the same bench. But instead of grinning and winking like she expected him to, he looked straight into her eyes, conveying his sadness for her predicament and reluctance to be the one dragging her into the business. Taking a deep breath, Anastasia walked over to him, stopping straight infront of him.

She waited a few seconds before looking up and staring into his blue eyes. "What do you want me to do?" She asked.


	5. Chapter 5

A.N. Thank you for reading! You'll find out who the boy is in this chapter!

**3 years ago: February 23rd, 2008: About Noon: Near Moscow, Russia**

Anastasia gripped the steering wheel tightly. That Bo - Sorry, Nickolai, had insisted she drove but didn't actaully tell her where to drive to. She doubted she'd find out any time soon either. He said to just follow the motorway out of the city and not take any turn offs, he'd wake up in time. At least with her driving she wasn't at his mercy if anything happened. Nickolai was currently asleep. He was his boots on the dashboard, dripping melted snow onto it, yes it wasn't technically Anastasia's car, but that didn't stop her from not wanting it to be a pig sty.

"Turn off." He snapped from her right, making Anastasia nearly swerve off the road in shock. Even though he still had his hood up and head down, Anastasia could see that insufferable smirk. She did as he told her though. Soon enough she had to slow down. They were going down loads of long and twisting side streets. "Stop." Nickolai told her. He sighed and heaved himslef out of the car. Anastasia followed tentitively.

Anastasia was more nervous than she'd ever been in her life. They had pulled up infront of what she assumed was once a lovely house. It was large, larger than any house Anastasia had seen in person but not like the mansions she saw on TV. The bricks were blackened with dirt and the windows were rotton and so grimey you couldn't see through them. It was the door that gave it away.

Yes it's paint was flakeing and it too, was filthy, but it wasn't rotton like the window. Was it new? Anastasia's question was answered when Nickolai knocked on it. It was metal! Nickolai turned around and shot her a comforting smile. She grimaced in return. The door swung open and Nickolai gestured for her to go in.

Inside was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Not that it was overly fancy or techie. It was just strange. The house itself was very old fashioned, Anastasia guessed it was made in Tsarist times. If nobody or no personal belongings had been there it would have looked like an ordinary house. There was a kitchen, a dining room, a living room. It was normal. But there were people and belongings in there.

The big man in the living room is the one that caught her eye first. He looked rough, the type of person even a street wise Moscow native like Anastasia would avoid at all costs. He was huge and seemed to be having trouble fitting himself on the couch behing the coffee table. She could see that is head was shaved but that he had a thin bald line through it that ran onto his face too. His arms were slung over the top of the couch, his muscles bulging out of his shirt. "That's Dimitri." Nickolai whispered in her ear. "Got in a nasty fight a few years back. Try not to stare." He told her, taking his coat off. "I'll leave you to him." He told her, clapping her back and walking into the kitchen to a boy who looked the same age as Nickolai, maybe a bit older. She had been so focused on Dimitri she hadn't even noticed the others in there. Maybe that was the point.

There was the boy with Nickolai, a man at the top of the stairs with a suspicious looking bulge under his jacket. There were also the two men in the dining room she could only just see, who were whispering to each other furiously, every so often there would be a click similar to that of an empty gun barrel and a glint of metal in the sun. On the kitchen unit she could see hundreds of what looked like ID papers.

"Hey kid." Her head snapped up to look into the jet black eyes of Dimitri, thanking God, Nickolai had warned her about staring. All across his face were long thin lines like knife wounds. They made his skin look sore and taught. Anastasia was sure if it wasn't for this he would have been quite the looker. From the corner of her eye she could see Nickolai and tho other boy looking at her condernedly.

Dimirti waved one massive hand in a gesture to follow him. He led her along the hall into a room that looked like it was under the stairs. Dimitri was so tall he had to stoop to get through the door without clipping his head on the frame. He had led her into a small room with a long table in the centre. Despite the many seats only two men sat at it. Well, three if you counted Dimitri on his way to sit down.

The man at the head looked at her in curiosity. "It's been so long..." He began, rising out of his chair "Since I have seen those eyes." He told her, making his slow way to her. "I never dreamed there would be another of you out there, direct decendant too." He told her, his hand about to touch her face. He suddenly smiled. "That look in your eyes is exactly what your father's was like when I first met him."

Anastasia took a deep breath. "My father?" She asked with as much bravery as she could muster.

"Yes. It's been so long, about seventeen yeas infact, since I last saw him. I knew him well when he was a young boy. About your age."

"What was he like?" She blurted without thinking.

"'Was'? My dear girl, he is still alive! But we will tell you everything if you do... a little favour for us."

"You're bribing me?" She asked.

"It's only bribery if you want it to be. You could do this as a permanent thing and get a little more than some information." He suggested.

"I think I'll find out what 'this' is before I decide to do it on a permanant basis."

"My dear girl!" He cried. "It is something so simple and something that comes so naturally to you, of course you will want to do it permenatntly!"

She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

The man leaned in close. Putting his lips next to her ear, he whispered "We want you to drive."


	6. Chapter 6

_A.N. Thank you for waiting! I will just say that while I am enjoying writing this I am dissapointed in the lack of responce and so may stop posting due to this. I never wanted to say that but I really don't see the point of posting if only about five people are willing to give some feedback and _that's _why I haven't updated. So, yeah, tounge lashing over. _

_What would happen if I said I did own Alex Rider? I own Al- actually, best not. _

**3 years ago: February 23rd, 2008: About Noon: Near Moscow, Russia**

"Drive? That's all they want me to do? No drug muling? No prostitution? No arms dealing? Just driving?" Anastasia asked almost to herself in astonishment, jumping when she recieved an answer.

"You almost seem dissapointed." Piotor said dryly, but with a slight tilt to his mouth. She and Piotor had met only moments before. He was Nickolai's friend, apparently they had known each other for a year and worked together a lot. He was a tall boy, about six foot four, making him a few inches taller that Nickolai and over a foot taller than Anastasia, who was annoyingly short for her fifteen years.

Anastasia shot him a glare. "What do you two do then?" She aksed, harshly.

Nickolai turned around from the kitchen worktop where he was making a palava out of making a cup of tea. He shakily made hs way over with his clear blue eyes fixated on the overfilled cup. She and Piotor looked on, cringing everytime a bit sloshed especially close to the edge. A mass sigh of relief was sounded when he had placed the mug on top of the breakfast bar and seated himslef down next to Anastasi, facing Piotor.

This seating choice did not go unnoticed by Anastasia who appreciated the silent show of comfort and support. Apparently Piotor noticed too because he narrowed his eyes at Nickolai and clenched his jaw ever so slightly. Nickolai widened his eyes and tilted his head, obviously telling Piotor that they'd talk later. Anastasia grabbed the cup and carefully lifted it up so that they'd be fooled into thinking she hadn't noticed.

The cup was so full Anastasia was tempted to do what she did when she was a child and leave the cup on the table and bend her head down to drink like she did when she poured a whole can of coke into her glass - which usually sent Natalia into a fit about it getting onto the table cloth. The memory of Natalia brought about a surprising tightness in her chest. She took a gulp of tea, glad that the tongue burning heat was enough to distract her from her strange sentimental thoughts.

"We're tails." Nickolai told her, gazeing at her, amusement on his face but concern in his eyes.

Anastasia was about to ask what the hell he was talking about but then remembered her question. "Oh. Both of you?"

"Yep! But Piotor started a bit before me. He's a few years older, you see! I'm seventeen and he's nineteen now!" Nickolai said happily, grabbing the cup out of Anastasia's hand and swigging some of the tea and shoving it back, flashing a cheeky grin. Anastasia didn't know weather to smile or frown so she did a bit of both, causing Nickolai to shake slightly with laughter.

But there was a warning behind the smile. 'End this conversation' it seemed to say.

"Hey Girlies!" A voice chirped as a young blonde woman stormed in, stopping abruptly when she noticed that there was, infact, a 'girlie' sat in the kitchen.

"Anastasia, this is Katia. Katia, this is Anastasia." Nickolai introduced akwardly.

Katia looked a lot like Anastasia, they had the same colouring, the same prominants cheek bones and the same rounded chin, Anastasia could imagine them being mistaken for sisters. Katia was closer to Nickolai's age and it seemed they got on well - Anastasia began to wonder if something might be going on between the two of them as they both became extrememly red in the face when she entered.

"Nice to meet you, Anastasia." Katia said, holding her hand out for Anastaisa to shake. "I guess you'll be my new room mate!" She said happily.

"Where do we sleep?" Anastasia asked hesitantly.

Katia looked at her like she was stupid and then at Nickolai the same way before she grabbed Anastasia's arm and towed her upstairs. As they went up it was plain to see that this was a sort of children's home and the adults were carers of sorts who also used it as a rest spot. The stairs were now lined with teenagers her age and over - "back for lunch" Katia had told her - they all gave Anastasia the same look, curious but tentative - "we all get a bit skittish after a while". Anastasia was led into a room down at the end of the third floor corridor. It was surprisingly light and spacious - white walls with soft pinks and blues - with two wardrobes, two cheast of drawers, two bedside tables and two beds with a window seperating them. Katia pointed to the sterile bed on the right. "That's yours. Don't worry about clothes, They got the necessities and apparently I can take you shopping tomorrow!" Katia said flouncing down onto her bed.

Anastasia also sat down on her bed and prepared herself to ask the question she had been wanting to since her arrival "Did y-" she began but Katid interrupted.

"So, Nastia, what is it you do?" She asked.

"Actually, it's just Anastasia." She told her.

"Yeah," Katia replied slowly, "I'm going to call you Nastia." She continued, springing up. "Come one, I'll finish the tour of the house!"

Anastasia - or Nastia as she was apparently going to be called - sighed and stood. Looked like she would have to ask about her father another day.


	7. Chapter 7

**3 years ago: 19th April, 2008: About half past eight in the morning: Near Moscow, Russia**

It had been almost three months since 'Nastia' - she still wasn't happy with the nickname but was learning to accept it, much to Katia's delight - had rolled up at The Zoo before she got her first major 'job'. For the first week or two it had been just ferrying the tails around and helping them with vechical tailing. Then it changed to driving The Man - the man she had met in that weird room nobody was allowed in - and his various cronies around Moscow. If Nastia was being truthful she would say that things were getting boring.

She and Katia were just finishing off breakfast when the doorbell rang. Nastia huffed as she stood on her tip toes to look through the peep hole. The Man had had an appointment schedualed for quarter to eight that morning, but the Zoo always said that after half an hour a person was officially a no show. Nastia balked when she saw that it was the man on the photo pinned to the cork board - they couldn't just let anybody in. Nastia didn't know what to do. She had always been told that if a client was late something was up.

Masha - one of the girls in the room next to Nastia's and Katia's - had explained it was because when a client was late it usually meant they had been intercepted at some point and so weren't allowed in; but The Man had made sure they understood this was an incredibly important client who he needed to see. Nastia jumped again when the doorbell rang again. Dimitri came stumping around the corner and when he saw Nastia he looked more than a bit pissed off.

Nasia nodded to the picture, hoping Dimitri would understand what was going on. Luckily he did, nodding and going into the 'play room' as he patronisingly called it. He came out with several of the older and more experienced boys and girls and several of the adults, who hid themselves around the corners and out of sight. The doorbell rang agian and Nastia looked through the peep hole again. The man was still looking patient, but she could see his eyes darting about.

Nastia hauled the metal door open and the man strode in. He didn't even look behind him until he heard the door bang shut. It was him. Nastia had only met him once but she could remember him perfectly. He had come to her house when she was six years old.

OoO

_**9 years ago: 23rd June, 1999: about half past seven in the motning: Moscow, Russia**_

_Anastasia stepped out of her room and padded down the corridor. Natalia had always hated it when she was woken up before nine - especially when she had had a man over - and it was only half past seven and Natalia had definately had a man over. Anastasia had heard him arrive at about eleven the night before, she had heard Natalia's shock and surprise, heard her lead him to the living room and them come out an hour later and go to her room. Anastasia hadn't heard what went on after but she was certain it happened. It had every other time. _

_Anastasia took extra care to turn all of the door knobs quietly and walked extra slowly and quietly when she had to pass Natalia's room. Anastasia whirled around in shock and fear when she heard the door of Natalia's room open quietly. But it wasn't Natalia stood there, it was a young man - probably in his early to mid twenties - with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a lot more than most of the other men that came out of Natalia's room early in the morning and he was covered in bruises and clotted cuts. _

_"Good morning." He said softly, nodding his head._

_"Yeah, morning." Anastasia whispered, not quite sure what to do. The man was staring at her, watching her intently. A man had done that to her before but Natalia had told him to leave and he'd never come back, but Anastasia didn't get the same uncomfortable and scared feeling as she had that time before, this man just seemed innocently intrigued by her. _

_"My name is Yassen." He told her, holding out his hand, making Anastasia giggle because he was treating her like a proper adult. _

_"Anastasia." She told him, still smiling and shaking his had like she was a proper lady._

_He grinned back, "Not Nastia?" he asked._

_Anastasia shook her head. "Natalia doesn't like it." She told Yassen._

_Yassen nodded. "What Natalia says goes, right?" He asked, sympatheticly._

_"Something like that." Anastasia said, sadly._

_Yassen looked at her few a few seconds before stepping out of the doorway and closing the door behind him gently. "Hungry?" he asked. At Anastasia's nod he put his hand on her shoulder and led her to the kitchen._

OoO

_Natalia woke up at sometime past nine o clock and rolled over, ready to shake Yassen awake, he needed to go before he saw Anastasia - after all, he didn't even know about her! Natalie sat bolt upright and lept out of bed, grabbing her dressing gown and storming out of her room when she didn't feel him in bed next to her. Her heart lept into her mouth when she saw Anastasia's door open and Yassen's coat on the stand. _

_Nastia took a deep breath and opened the living room/kitchen/dining room door cringing when she saw Anastasia sat at the table, eating pancakes with ice cream on. She gave Anastasia a little smile before rounding the corner into the kitchen, nervously. If the situation hadn't been so serious and terrifying Natalia would have laughed. The sight of Yassen Gregorovitch, one of the world's most dangerous men, stood in her little kitchen in his underwear and vest with a pinny on, making pancakes for a six year old could have made even the most bitter old woman laugh. _

_She gave him a smile, which he reassuringly returned. "Morning Nat!" he told her. Uh-Oh. He was too happy, he was pretending, probably for Anastasia's sake. "Nastia - " _

_Natalia cut him off "It's Anastasia." She told him with unnecessary harshness. _

_He didn't appear to hear her. "Nastia, do you mind if I just pop out for a second and have a chat with your mum?" He asked her gently. _

_Anastasia looked up and nodded happily. Natalia's chest got tight when she looked at Anastasia's face - like it did everytime. Anastasia was the carbon copy of her father. They had the same colouring. The same long, straight, low down nose. The same hard, straight mouth and the same high cheek bones. Natalia had thought nothing was harder than having to look at the face of the man she loved and couldn't have everyday, but apparently there was. Having to look at that same face while knowing that the owner of the original glaring at the back of your head, hating your existance in that moment. _

_Blinking away tears and taking a deep, reassuring breath, Natalia followed Yassen into the hall where he grabbed her shoulders and leaned in close. He didn't appear mad but Natalia could see the fury crackling in his icy blue eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?" He whispered furiously._

_Natalia didn't bother asking what he was talking about, Yassen wasn't stupid and would have realised it was his daughter straight away. "Why should I? You couldn't have stuck around and looked after her. You wouldn't have wanted to!" She told him, annoyingly tearful._

_Yassen got madder. "Of course I would have wanted to look after my own child but you're right in saying I couldn't. I would have visited, though!" He told her, a hint of desperation in his voice._

_"What? And mess with her head?" She retorted, growing angry._

_Apparently Yassen was too, "What you mean like you do?" At her splutter of indignation he continued, "A different man evey night, treating her like dirt for being my daughter?" He asked her, his voice rising. _

_"Get out." Natalia whispered, brokenly. _

_Yassen glared at her with so muh hatred Natalia looked away in fear. "Fine, but I want you to let me know how she's doing. Ring me anytime she needs help or you need help with her. Money, supervision, anything." He told her._

_Natalia nodded, having no intention of doing so, and watched as the man who now hated her left her life yet again. "I gave her your name, you know!" She called after him. He paused for a moment before carrying on and leaving. _

_Natalia took a moment to dry her eyes before turning around to face her - no, their - daughter and pretent nothing was wrong. _

OoO

It was the same man, but looking at him again her suspicions were proved correct. Yassen was her father and from the look of shock and horrot in his eyes, he recognised her too.

They both looked around when she heard slow clapping and quiet laughter coming from the corner. "Well, isn't this a coincidence?" The Man asked rhetorically.


	8. Chapter 8

**3 years ago: 19th April, 2008: About six o clock in the morning: Near Moscow, Russia**

The large passenger jet landed in Domodedovo International Airport exactly three minutes late, Yassen noted, looking at his watch. The Russian assassin had been on the British Airways plane for four hours, since eleven o clock in the evening, English time, meaning he landed at six o clock in the morning, Moscow time. The slight delay did not phase Yassen as he knew he had an hour and fourty five minutes before he needed to be at the meeting he had made his trip for.

Yassen could not deny his surprise at the phone call, it had not been long since he had spoken to Dimitri and that was to inform him of his daughter, Anastasia. Yassen had told Dimitri that if he ever ran into Anastasia he hoped Dimitri would look after her as best he could. Dimitri Charkov was like a member of the family Yassen had wanted after the death of his biological one. Dimitri had been like a brother to Yassen in the few years they had been together as dogs for the Russian Mafia, and after the death of Yassen's mentor, John Rider - who Yassen saw to be a sort of doting uncle - was the person Yassen was closest to and trusted the most. Who better to watch out for his one and only child?

Yassen was slightly nervous about this though, Dimitri had been very vague on the phone, saying only that Yassen _needed _to come back to Moscow, that there was something important he needed to see. It was unlike Dimitri to be so urgent and paniced, he was usually a stoic and brutal man - a far cry from the cheeky, good natured boy Yassen had first met, but then, Yassen supposed, he too had changed to fit the unemotional criteria of his job just as Dimitri had changed to fit the violent and aggressive criteria of his (though Yassen suspected that Dimitri wasn't as hard as he wanted people to see him, just as Yassen wasn't as heartless as he knew he was perceived).

Picking up his minimal luggage on the carousel, Yassen pulled out his fake passport from his carry on bag. He called it fake, but it was a genuine passport - except it was aquired with a fake birth certificate. It claimed he was Ukranian born in Kiev, two years later than his actual birth and went by the name of Ivan Panova (his first name being the slavic form of John, as an homage to his late mentor). Yassen knew he would have no trouble getting through passport control.

OoO

**3 years ago: 19th April, 2008: About quarter to seven in the morning: Near Moscow, Russia**

At quarter to seven Yassen set off from the Radison Hotel to make the fourty five minute journey to the Zoo - Dimitri's 'retirement home' - leaving fifteen minutes for traffic. Except traffic was especially bad due to an accident on the motorway, meaning it added another half an hour onto his arrival time. When Yassen arrived at the old, grimey house he was half an hour late already. But Yassen was still worried. What if it was a set up? Was Dimitri being forced to make that call? He did sound strange... So Yassen waited. It did not take long for Yassen to see that he was, indeed, expected when he saw the net curtains in the dirty window twitch a little bit, when he saw the sillouette of a tall boy move from one of the upstairs windows, when he saw a teenage passerby concerntrate on the end of the road a little too much to be natural. He was expected.

Yassen opened the door of his car and stepped out into the growing sunlight and unusually warm weather, still keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of an undercover government official or something of the like. As Yassen grew closer he could see several sillouettes in the grimy wondows but he noted how none of them appeared to be taking any notice of his approach. When he reached the door he knocked loudly. There was no answer but he saw some movement in the room next to the door. He knocked again and after a few more seconds the heavy steel door swung open, the opener standing behind it. Yassen pretended not to notice the people hiding through out the hallway and when he caught his old friends eye Dimitri shot him a wink and a small grin before continuing to look aggressive and suspicious.

Yassen turned around when he hears the loud slam of the heavy door swinging shut. It was her.

He _knew_ it was her. Just like all of those years ago he knew it was her. For only the second time in his life Yassen allowed himself to observe his daughter, she seemed to be lost in a dream world so it seemed the perfect oppertunity to do so. She hadn't changed much in nine years. She still looked exactly like him except it looked like there were deliberate mistakes on her. She had her mother's shorter frame, her slightly cleft chin and eyes that were just slightly too big; but she was Anastasia, his daughter.

Why was she here? In the Zoo? What had happened? Had she been kidnapped? Had she run away? Had Natalia died..? The last question left Yassen with a dull ache in his chest, one he had not expected to get. He had not loved Natalia, their relationship had been fleeting and based on lust and the need for companionship rather than any real love and affection felt for each other. And yet through that lust and companionship they had made Anastasia. A person that Yassen would always love, no matter how much he told himself he didn't. Yassen knew that he would love her and forgive her anything.

Even to Yassen it seemed illogical and rash to love a person so fiercly from just one meeting but genes, he supposed, were miraculous things, the natural draw to your offspring. The natural instinct to keep them safe. Anastasia was not safe. He caught her eyes and saw the recognition in them - the recognition his had held those nine years ago and hers had been completely clear of - but she knew.

She broke eye contact first and for a fleeting second Yassen feared it was a sign of her rejection of him but then when he heard the slow clapping he realised it was because her eyes had, subconsiously, trained onto movement in the shadows. "Well, isn't this a coincidence?" a gleefull voice asked. A gleefull voice Yassen would have recognised anywhere. It was him.

OoO

_**21 years ago: 19th April, 1987: About quarter to seven in the morning: Near Moscow, Russia**_

_Yassen couldn't deny he was scared. How many other fourteen year olds just walzed up to one of the meeting places of the Mafia? He flinched at the sound the gate made when he opened it. 'Pull yourself together, Yassen' he told himslef, trying to steel his nerves enough to knock on the door. He had just raised he cold hand to finally knock on the door when "What are you doing?" A young male voice snapped from behind._

_Yassen whirled round, pretty sure he looked like somebody had marched up to him, put a gun to his head and asked him to come quietly. He opened and closed his mouth trying to come up with a reasonable explaination. He was panting quite hard and his breath made small plumes of dense steam infront of him. The person who had interrupted him was a young man. - probably mid twenties. He had dark brown, messy hair, bright green eyes, a tall slim frame and a handsome face. _

_Yassen, closed his mouth and took some calming breaths before managing to bite out "Do you know where I might find Vladimir Fedotova?" He asked, trying to portray as much courage and attitude into his words and face as he could._

_"That's me." The boy - man? - stated._

_"Oh." Yassen was thrown for a second. "Well, you looking for some help around here?" He asked in a would-be casual voice. _

_"Do you even know what we do?" Vladimir asked, scornfully._

_"Of course I do! I'm not stupid." Yassen answered, indignant._

_"No, I don't suppose you are..." Vladimir said, his eyes raking over Yassen. "Come on in then, before we both freeze." He said, edging past Yassen, pulling a ring of keys out as he did._

OoO

Vladimir had been kind to him for the first year or so but as Yassen had got older Vladimir had made it clearer and clearer that he waned Yassen gone from his branch of the Mafia and he didn't care where he went. It was then that Yassen had gone to Scorpia, but it was when Yassen was newly twenty one that he heard from Vladimir again. He had received the call in the night 'You shouldn't have left, Yassen. Somebody needs to fill your shoes and I have an idea who.' Vladimir had said before hanging up.

At first Yassen had ingnored it and decided all those years in drug trafficing had finally got to Vladimir, but now, standing there, knowing his daughter was stood right behind him, working for Vladimir, Yassen understood. Because Yassen had left, Vladimir was going to use Anastasia.

"Yassen..." Vladimir sighed, moving closer, stretching his hands out to cup Yassen's face but stopping just a few millimeters short and only doing the action in the air. "It's been too long..." Vladimir breathed, his eyes raking Yassen up and down like they had all those years ago. From the corner of his eye Yassen could see Dimitri looking on in concern and Anastasia watching them closely, her eyes darting between the two of them like she was at a tennis match.

"Yes it has, but we know why that was don't we?" Yassen replied. On the surface it was a friendly question but you'd have to be a fool to not see the hidden anger and hatred behind it.

"Let's keep the past in the past." Vladimir said, uncertaily. "See Yassen, look who it is! We found Anastasia!" Vlamdimir said, clutching at threads as he swept over to Anastasia and put his arm around her shoulders. Yassen was satisfied to see how she stiffened and blankened her face when he did.

Yassen could take Vladimir anyday. He needn't worry about Anastasia. With him and Dimitri watching her back she would come to know harm. Or so he thought.

OoO

A.N. Aaarrrggghhhh! I'm so sorry, this chapter was so much less productive than I had aimed for! I'm so sorry! I had wanted to let you into Yassen's head because other than that snippet in chapter 1 we haven't seein anything about his feelings for Anastasia are. I hope you're enjoying this... I wonder if any of you have an idea where this is going..? Feel free to speculate!


	9. Chapter 9

A.N I'm sorry for the late update! I've had a bit of a writers block. I already know how this story is going to pan out I just can't decide how to put it into words... Do you know what I mean?

**3 years ago: 19th April, 2008: About nine o clock in the morning: Near Moscow, Russia**

Nastia sighed once more, rubbing her hands together and looking around the room nervously. She opened her mouth several times to try to start a conversation but came up short and so sighed again. She and Yassen where sat in the front living room of the Zoo and Nastia was trying to ignore Nickolai and Katia pressing their faces agains the glass outside, luckliy the fake grime masked them so it became easier but she couldn't pretend to not see the wild hand gestures. She shot them a look of the she hoped said 'I have no clue' to them but doubted she managed.

"Perhaps your friends would find hiding behind the corner plant easier when spying on us." Nastia jumped when she heard her father's deep and calm voice out of the silence.

"Oh they're just - just - you know - they're -" She stuttered, unusually ruffled and panicked.

"Nosy?" Yassen asked. When Nastia looked she could see the slight tilt in his lips turning his face into an undeniable smirk.

"Yeah, pretty much." Nastia breathed, relieved at the ice breaker. "So... What brings you back here?" She asked him, worried of his reply. Maybe that was too personal..?

"I was visiting an old friend." He replied shortly.

"Oh..." Nastia mouthed, the awkwardness of the situation renewed.

"What happened to Natalia?" Yassen suddenly asked, not meeting Nastia's eyes.

"Oh, she - erm - she died a few months ago." Nastia told him, that annoying tightness in her chest coming back. His face suddenly became cold.

"Anastasia - "

"Nastia" she corrected him.

A strange expression came across his face and Nastia remembered that was what he had wanted to refer to her as "Nastia, I want you to listen to me." He told her. He set down his cup on the table and walked to sit next to her. Leaning in he whispered "Do not trust Vladimir. Do not trust what he says, what he does, anything. He is not the man you think he is, Nastia. Be careful around him. Do not make yourself vunerable to him, do not rely on him, do not let him know you. Do you understand?"

Nastia turned her head to him, their identical, icy blue eyes meeting. Nastia could see no lies and whispered "I understand." back. Before she could say anything else he grasped her shoulder and grazed his lips over her cheek before standing up and striding out of the room without looking back at her.

Nastia sat still and silent for a few moments, only moving when she noticed Nickolai and Katia stood in the doorway. "So... what did you talk about?" Nickolai asked her, coming to sit by her right, Katia on her left. Even though Yassen had never said, Nastia knew the warning had been for her ears only, not to be passed on.

"Nothing really. He asked what had happened to my mother..." Nastia opted to tell them instead. She allowed a few moments of silence before she sprang up. "I'm going to make some tea, anyone else?" At both of their nods Nastia made her way through the hall into the kitchen. She got two mugs off the draining board and made to get another out of the cupboard. As she was closing the cupboard door she caught sight of Piotor.

He had suddently appeared behind the open door. Nastia let out a little scream, dropped the mug and clutching her heard, panting. "What the hell?" she asked, torn between anger and amusement.

"I apologise if I startled you Nastia." He said, bending down to pick up the broken mug, trying to hide his smirk.

"'If' you startled me?" Nastia asked, finally settling on amusment. The two of them were still wary of each other and the tension from their first meeting was still there. Nickolai had explained that Piotor had been quite young when he had joined the Mafia and when he'd got to eighteen he'd left, only to come back three months later. There was something about him that Nastia just didn't like, but she was prepared to get on with him if it made her life easier.

He laughed in response. "So, did your dad, Yassen, say where he was going now?" He asked in an obvious would-be casual tone.

Nastia paused in pouring the water for a milisecond, it was so slight she didn't think Piotor would notice. "No, he didn't." She told him, slightly more short than was probably necessary.

"Right. Did he say what he was doing here?" He asked again, Nastia could see him watching her.

"No." She lied, She knew she should try and remian calm, but it was things like this that stopped her from trusting him.

"What about what he'd been up to? Did he mention that?" Piotor asked, advancing on her, trying to intmidate her.

Nastia wasn't going to go down without a fight; "No, he didn't, really. But I know he enjoys sunsets, long walks on the beach and candle lit dinners." She told him sarcastically before grabbing the three mugs and marching into the living room again, feeling Piotor's glare on her back

the whole way.

**Present Day: 14th July, 2011: About eleven o clock in the morning: Moscow, Russia**

Piotor kept his eyes firmly trained on the door on the opposite side of the bullet-proof glass. He sat up a little straigher when the doors opened to a young, thin, short, blond girl. Piotor couldn't help but wince when he saw the tight cuffs on her wrists and ankles and the chain connecting them.

Nastia was dumped in the chair on the opposite side of the glass. The guards backed away but kept their large guns trained on the back of Nastia's head, their fingers twitching at her every movement. If Nastia was surprised to see him she didn't show it, although from the look of her Piotor wondered if she even had the engergy to feel anything at the moment. She was pale and chalky. Her eyes surrounded by deep dark bags, he lips dry and cracked, her eyes sad and lifless.

Most people would say she deserved this but Piotor knew the truth. "I can tell them." He said, straight to the point. At this Nastia did look surprised. Piotor wasn't sure if it was what he had said of the fact he had said it in English.

"What are you talking about, Piotor?" She aksed tiredly, in her none accented English that had been the envy of the Zoo. Her voice was dry and scratchy from disuse.

"I can tell them the truth. They'll believe me. You shouldn't lie." He told her.

She lolled her head, looking bored. She had apparently had this conversation before. "But that will mean she gets killed." Nastia said like it was simple.

"It's either you or her and considering you're innocent to murder I'd say it should be her. I can tell them! Yes, you'll have to serve a few years but it won't be death!" He told her, becoming more and more angry.

Nastia looked at him sadly. "Even if I wanted to turn her in there's no way you could get them to believe you." She told him, unitentionally scornful.

"You'd be surprised what I can do, Anastasia." He told her, purposely using her proper name. "I'll be back in a few days for your answer" he continued, getting up and walking to his next meeting. A certain Mr Gregorovitch.


End file.
